Chapter 22
“Sunderford.” Isabel knocked on the locked playroom door. “Are you in there?”
She did not doubt that he was inside. He spent almost all of his time working on his secret renovation.
“Looking for me?” His deep voice sounded just behind her.
She turned to face him, her belly heating just at the sound of his voice. “Yes, I am.”
He moved closer, bracing his hands on either side of her head. “How may I be of service?” He brushed his lips against hers.
She slipped out from under his arms, putting distance between them. “Not in that way.”
It wasn’t that she didn’t welcome his attentions. Over the last couple weeks, they’d stolen kisses wherever they could. She would be walking toward the schoolroom or the nursery, or after taking the children to the music room for their lesson, and Sunny would appear out of nowhere and pull her into some hidden corner or alcove to kiss her so thoroughly that she would forget her name. “There’s no time for that.”
His eyes glittered. “How unfortunate. I cannot seem to get enough of”—his eyes dipped to her lips—“you.”
Heat rushed from her toes to the top of her head. She still could not make sense of the physical effect he had on her, yet she’d come to live for these stolen interludes. Just remembering the press of his mouth against hers and the feel of his body heat commingling with hers left her breathless.
Allowing these intimacies definitely wasn’t wise. Isabel wished she could speak with Abbie, who would no doubt speak some sense into her, but Abbie was in the country with her ailing mother.
Isabel cleared her throat. “It is the girls’ birthday.”
“I am aware.”
“They’d like to spend the day with you. To go on an outing for their birthday.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“I’ve informed them that you are likely too busy to spend the entire day, but I hope you will at least grant them an hour or two today.”
“That can be arranged. Have them meet me here in an hour’s time.”
“Meet you here?”
“Yes, in the playroom.” His eyes twinkled. “The renovation is complete. It’s time for all of you to see what I have done with the place.”
“Can we open our eyes now?” Patience asked.
“Not yet,” Sunny said. “Be patient.”
Isabel could feel the girl fidgeting beside her, but she couldn’t see Patience because Sunny had insisted that they each wear a blindfold. And he’d personally escorted each one of them into what felt like the center of the playroom, where the smell of wood and fresh paint immediately assailed her.
The scoundrel had given Isabel a deep, unhurried kiss when it was her turn to be guided in. It was a wildly inappropriate thing to do in front of the children, even though they couldn’t see anything, and had left Isabel feeling as though her knees had dissolved into nothing. She’d had no idea that being kissed while blindfolded could be so erotic.
Prudie, who stood on Isabel’s other side, slipped her hand into Isabel’s and squeezed. “When will it be time to look, Cousin Adam?” she asked, her voice squeaky with excitement.
“I would say now,” he answered. “You may all remove your blindfolds.”
Isabel pulled the kerchief down around her neck and blinked, trying to orient herself to her surroundings. Gone were the red walls and opulent furnishings. In place was what could only be described as a child’s wonderland. Set in colors of white, blue, and yellow, there was a merry sitting area with a small sofa and matching stuffed chairs that seemed specially designed to fit the girls’ small frames. Behind the sofa, three shelves of dolls, toys, and books lined the wall. A wall of mirrors remained, but in place of the old single swing were two new matching ones. And there, in the corner, stood the most charming doll’s house Isabel had ever seen.
“A doll’s house!” Prudie ran to the four-level structure. “Oh, Cousin Adam, is it for me?”
“It is indeed.” Sunny walked over and knelt beside the girl. “I promised I would get you a new doll’s house, did I not?”
Isabel took in the intricate details of the doll’s house—the wooden floors, colorful wallpaper, and beautiful trim. Even the miniature fireplaces seemed made of marble. The salon, with its blue furniture and red pillows looked familiar.
“It’s a replica of Sunderford House,” Sunny announced.
“It is! It is!” Prudie pointed to the two beds and rocking horse on the top floor. “There’s the nursery.”
Isabel examined the finer points of the miniature home. From the carved molding to the pewter plates and pots and pans in the kitchen below stairs. Even the furniture was exquisitely made. She ran a finger over the mahogany dining room table. “That’s why you’ve been locked up in here all of this time. You were making this doll’s house for Prudie. You built this.”
“I did. Most of it anyway. I had some help with the crown molding and Chippendale supplied the furniture.”
“I love it!” Prudie threw herself into Sunny’s arms. “It’s the best birthday present I ever got. Thank you.”
Isabel’s throat grew thick as she watched Sunny wrap his arms around the girl’s small frame, which seemed especially delicate next to his masculine form. “You’re most welcome, sweeting.” Isabel thought his voice sounded a little choked.
“What is this?” Patience asked from across the room. She stood looking up at two parallel wooden bars that were taller than her.
Sunny gently pulled away from Prudie and stood to join Patience. “That is for you to do your tumbling without injuring yourself.”
Patience immediately jumped to grab hold of the bars and swung her legs up and over the second bar, pulling herself up to a sitting position on the bar. “I love it.” She immediately flung her body back, so that her upper body dangled while her legs, with knees bent over the bar, supported her weight. “Look at me! Look!”
Isabel’s heart beat hard. “Have a care!”
“Don’t be concerned,” Sunny assured her. “There are three mattresses to help soften any fall.” He stooped to show Isabel each layer. “This bottom one is filled with straw, the second with chafing, and the third with feathers and down for her comfort.”
Isabel came over to examine the mattresses. “It does seem like it would cushion her fall.”
Patience jumped off the parallel bars and ran over to a single wooden beam that was about sixteen feet long and raised around three feet off the ground.
“I know what this is for!” Patience hopped onto the flat four-inch-wide surface. Holding her arms out wide at her sides for balance, like a bird in flight, she quickly made her way across the beam. “It’s like walking on the wall ledge.”
“Only safer.” Sunny directed his remarks at Isabel. “It isn’t too high off the ground, and if she does fall, we have the same collection of mattresses underfoot to protect her from injury.”
Emotion filled Isabel’s chest as she watched Prudie playing with the doll’s house and Patience running across the beam. “I cannot believe that you did this for the girls.”
“They are my family. I want them to feel that they truly have a home here with me.” His warm gaze met hers. “As do you.”
“Look, Duke, look!” Patience did a cartwheel on the beam and landed momentarily on the beam before losing her balance and jumping off. “Did you see?”
“I did.” Sunny laughed and clapped his hands, his eyes bright, his enthusiasm genuine and infectious. “Did you see, Finch? Did you see what our girl just did?”
She blinked. “I certainly did.”
He turned back to Patience. “Do it again. I’ll provide support to help you land upright.” He walked beside the beam with Patience, again and again, as she repeatedly did cartwheels on the wooden post. He’d put out a steadying arm when she’d land, until she found her footing.
A jumble of emotions engulfed Isabel as she watched the interaction. Up until this moment, she’d viewed Sunny as a sensual playmate and even, more and more, a friend she could confide in. But suddenly she comprehended she had done the duke an injustice, because he was so much more than something fleeting and temporary.
She took in everything around her. He’d spent weeks behind closed doors constructing this wondrous place for the children with his own hands. It was apparent in every groove, every stroke of paint, every nail hammered into place that this space was the result of a true labor of love.
She blinked back tears. For so long, she’d had no one with whom to share her love for and pride in Patience and Prudie. Oh, Abbie would listen and Abel was fond enough of the girls, but neither of them could share the unique sense of fulfillment Isabel felt when it came to raising the children and celebrating their accomplishments. Her joy in the girls had left her feeling isolated. Now, as she watched Patience successfully complete the cartwheel on the beam without falling, followed by Sunny scooping her up and spinning the girl around with a shout of triumph, Isabel realized she was no longer alone.
The following morning, Sunny was reading the newspaper and finishing up his kippers as Dowding poured him a fresh cup of coffee when Finch came in.
“Good morning.” He looked up from his paper. “Getting a late start on the children’s lessons today?” By this time of the morning, Finch usually had Patience and Prudie already busy with their chalk and slates in the schoolroom.
She had on her spectacles and wore that ridiculous bun at the nape of her neck. “I’ve given them leave to spend time in their new playroom until luncheon. It’s been quite hopeless attempting to get them to focus on their lessons today.”
He smiled, thoroughly pleased with himself. “My surprise hit the mark, did it?”
“You know it did.”
He gestured to the sideboard, which was flanked by two attending footmen. “Would you care for something to eat, Finch?”
“No, thank you. I’ve come for the meeting you requested.”
“What meeting?” Sipping his coffee, he regarded her over the rim of his porcelain cup. “I don’t recall making any such request.”
“Oh? Perhaps I am mistaken. You may have mentioned meeting me in your study.” She seemed to be trying to remember. “It was a meeting we postponed after the ball. I believe you said to meet you in the study in ten minutes’ time. But then you might have changed your mind and said the dining room.”
He replaced his cup on the saucer with a clatter. Was she talking about what he thought she was talking about? “I seem to recall asking you to meet me in the study in five minutes.”
“Is that how we left it?” Her steady blue gaze met his from behind her spectacles. “Shall I meet you in the study in five minutes’ time then? Perhaps you’d like to finish your coffee first.”
“No need.” He struggled to keep his voice even. “As long as you’re here, we might as well get straight to it.”
She clasped her hands demurely in front of her. “As you like, Your Grace.”
Heat fired in his groin. He forced himself to stay seated, lest he ravish her in full view of the servants in the room. He looked to Dowding. “You may leave us.”
“Very good, Your Grace.” The butler turned to Isabel. “Shall I set a place for you, Miss Finch? Or perhaps bring you some coffee or tea?”
Sunny gritted his teeth to refrain from yelling Get out now! at his ever-efficient butler.
“That is very kind of you, Mr. Dowding,” she said primly, the spectacles and prudish demeanor making him even harder beneath the table. He couldn’t wait to muss her up. He wondered if that was her intent. “But I’m in need of nothing at the moment.”
“As you wish.” Dowding bowed and ushered the two footmen out ahead of him, closing the door as they exited.
“Maybe you should lock it,” Sunny said to Isabel.
She did as he asked and then turned to face him. “Well?”
He remained seated, his clenched fists atop the table in front of him, his blood racing. “Are you certain this is what you want?”
“I believe this is about what you want.” She bent both arms behind her neck as she pulled the pins from her hair, loosening her puritanical bun to reveal the full glory of wild golden curls strewn about her shoulders.
He watched hungrily. “I’ve been very clear about what I want.”
“Yes.” She removed her spectacles and placed them on the sideboard. “I believe you said something about wanting me in a state of undress on the dining room table.”
“I seem to recall that.” He swallowed. Hard. “There’s no time like the present.”
Her eyes sparked like a blue flame. “Very well.” She wore a gown that fastened in the front, a drab rag designed for working-class women who didn’t have maids to dress them. He suddenly wanted to dress Finch in fine silks all of the time. But not now. At the moment, he wanted her divested of every piece of clothing.
She unfastened the first button. And then the next, revealing the graceful column of her neck, followed by the fine indent of her clavicle.
He sat back in his chair, his cock swelling as he watched attentively, unwilling to miss a thing. Her shift got in the way then, shielding her skin from his eager gaze. There were a million of the deuced buttons going all the way down the front of her dress. She unbuttoned each one methodically and efficiently, baring her shift and stays. But he already knew she made love with abandon. There was nothing orderly about the way she lost herself when he was inside her. Would it be the same this time? He struggled to remember whether she’d had too much champagne the last time he’d had carnal knowledge of her.
Any attempt to recollect anything slid out of his mind when she shimmied out of her gown once she’d undone enough buttons to manage it, and straightened up wearing her shift and stays.
“Good girl,” he breathed. “Take it all off.”
She lowered her face to pay attention to the laces of her stays and pulled the undergarment off reasonably quickly.
He attempted to control his breathing. Her chemise was thin and threadbare. He could practically see right through it to the rosiness at the center of her breasts, the dark triangle at the juncture of her thighs.
“Keep going, love,” he encouraged. “I want to see all of you.”
He saw the deep breath she took, summoning her courage—her cheeks were already beautifully flushed—before she gathered the shift up in her hands, baring those fantastic legs—perhaps the best he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing, and that was saying something considering how many women he’d bedded. Although at the moment he couldn’t remember any of them.
He could only see Finch before him, baring the downy dark triangle that guarded her mons. She lifted the chemise higher, exposing a soft belly and narrow waist and finally those lovely breasts—round and pert, with beautiful strawberry-colored nipples. She pulled the shift over her head and dropped it to the ground.
With a screech of his chair legs behind him, Sunny was up and out of his chair before the undergarment hit the parquet floor. He swooped her into his arms, grateful beyond words for the gift she was bestowing upon him—he, a knave who was hardly worthy of her in any way.
She wrapped her arms around his neck as he fervently kissed her mouth, infusing the act with every emotion and sensation coursing through his body. He layered kisses down her lovely throat, soaking in her scent and the warmth of her skin.
And then he forced himself to draw back from her. “Are you certain this is what you want?”
“Yes.” Her eyes were bright and heated. “I’m no innocent. This is what I want.”
So many confusing thoughts assaulted him at once. First was the overwhelming desire to make her his, to make love to her so thoroughly that she’d never want another man. But could he promise her the same? He, a man to whom the idea of fidelity was like reaching out to touch the moon?
She touched his face. “What is it?”
“I…cannot promise…” He didn’t know how to share the tangled thoughts racing through his mind. “I don’t want to hurt you. You are too precious to me.”
“I am not asking for forever. I know who you are. All I ask for is this moment.”
He stared into her beautiful blue eyes. She was perfection.
“Very well then.” He lifted her onto the table.
“What are you doing?” she asked, breathless.
“I seem to recall saying something about having you writhing on this table while I feasted on you.”
And as he bent to trail kisses along her belly, he was overcome with the realization that making love with Finch was as dazzling as touching the moon.
And possibly as eternal.
“You’ve no idea how long I’ve fantasized about taking you here.” Sunny’s mouth closed over Isabel’s sensitive breast, his tongue playing with her nipple with long indulgent licks and short impatient flicks, delivering pleasure that cut through Isabel like a razor.
As he mouthed one breast, Sunny’s hand closed over her other breast, his thumb rolling expertly over the nipple. Isabel cradled his head in her arms as he worshipped her flesh, opening herself up to sensations that she’d denied herself for so long.
He moved upward, capturing her mouth, kissing her fully, twining his tongue with hers. She ached to feel his skin, to have it pressed against hers.
She pulled his linen shirt out of his breeches and up over his head. “I want this off.”
He lifted his arms, breaking contact with her lips just long enough to allow the cloth to go over his head. “Do as you please,” he murmured before taking her lips in another devouring kiss.
She ran her hands up the broad expanse of his bare back, surprised by the muscular strength she found there. She pulled back, eager to take in the landscape of his body. There was no fat at his belly, just corded strength, and the beauty of skin, bone, and muscle. She ran her hands over his abdomen, sliding them up over his firm pectorals.
“I rather think your hands are moving in the wrong direction,” he murmured.
She slid her fingers over his athletic biceps. “You are so beautiful.”
He made an amused sound. “You needn’t seem so surprised.”
“But I am.” She ran her hands over his shoulders. “When did this happen?”
He bent to kiss her neck. “Prudie pointed out that I had run to fat, and Vale and Dunsmore were quick to agree. I’ve devoted myself to regaining my Corinthian figure.”
She caressed his warm biceps. “You’ve done a magnificent job of it.”
His hands closed around her bottom, squeezing as he moved her to the edge of the table.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Preparing to feast on you.” He nibbled on her lower lip. “As promised.”
She didn’t understand what he meant by that until he pulled up a chair and lowered himself into it. “Sunny?” she asked, vaguely alarmed.
“Adam. My name is Adam.”
“Adam then. What are you doing?” The last part of that sentence ended in a squeak when he pulled her toward him and set his lips to her most intimate place.
“I’m pleasuring you, Finch. Lie back and enjoy it.”
She was about to protest—this was nothing she’d experienced before—but then his tongue was delving between her folds and she could do nothing but make inarticulate sounds as he flicked his tongue into shocking places. She felt his finger too, moving quickly inside her and then pulling out, while he sucked a supremely sensitive place that sent rivulets of pleasure streaming everywhere in her body.
She lay against the cold hard mahogany table surface, writhing, unable to withstand the building pressure but also desperate not to be deprived of it. She gripped the table’s edge, holding tightly to her composure, supersensitive to every sensation, the motion of his tongue and movement of his fingers, the cool air against her exposed skin, afraid she’d break into a million pieces if she let herself go.
“Come on, my love,” he encouraged. “I want to hear you scream my name when you come.”
She shook her head, desperate and on edge, the pent-up pressure close to bursting. “I cannot. The servants will hear.”
“They’ve heard worse.” He sucked harder and then more lightly, circling his tongue around the exquisite bundle of nerves, teasing her, before putting his mouth on her again. And then she broke, everything crashed inside of her and she let go into a beautiful release that shook through her in pulsating waves. Somehow his mouth was on hers when she cried out his name, smothering the sound from those who might be listening beyond these walls.
He unbuttoned his pantaloons and freed himself, entering her in one fast hard stroke. She moved with him, eager for him to enjoy his release after the gift he had just given her. He filled her completely, working in and out of her in long, sure strokes, his sculpted face a picture of intense concentration. She kissed him, stroking his tongue with hers as they made love. She could feel the rising tension in his body that told her his release was coming.
To Isabel’s shock, the tension began to build in her again as well. She’d thought that first time with Adam, when she’d reached her peak while in the act, had been a one-time occurrence. Suddenly she was making those inarticulate noises that tore from her throat when she neared her completion.
“Come again.” His voice was warm and demanding in her ear. “I want to feel it.”
It was as if her body was a slave to Adam’s commands. Her muscles spasmed and intense pleasure broke over her, her channel throbbing as he filled her.
“Oh, Isabel.” He stilled and broke with a hard shudder, releasing himself into her.
She held on to him, savoring the comfortable warmth, thinking how strange it was that this did not feel fleeting. That holding him in her arms felt like forever.